


A go-between

by aphrodisiatic_cat



Category: Pushing Daisies
Genre: Eating out, F/M, Self Insert, Sex, blowjob, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:36:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9798809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodisiatic_cat/pseuds/aphrodisiatic_cat
Summary: Chuck and Ned need a creative solution in their sex lives, and OC steps in to...lend a hand





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another shameless self insert, don't mind me, probably won't finish this. Try and read it like you're the narrator because I was trying to emulate him

Katherine Elizabeth Steward was 25 years, 7 months, 13 days, 18 hours and 39 minutes old when she spied the Pie Hole on her usual walk home. The fanciful crust roof, the warm and homely atmosphere, and the blissful diners she spied through the large round windows enticed her to step inside. Her curiosity was purely professional; Katherine was a psychologist of the highest order, and often freelanced her analytical skills. She did so by observing strangers in public, trying to detangle their intricate relations to one another through attentively studying body language and behaviour. She also had a soft spot for pie.  
Katherine swept into the small restaurant and perched at the counter, immediately ordering a strong black and a slice of apple pie from the tiny waitress. There were three employees working at the Pie Hole this afternoon; the chatty waitress, a young woman in a sunny dress and a sunny smile, and a very tall and reticent young man working in the kitchen. She watched him for a while, noting the precision and lavish care he poured over every pie. She was observing a labour of love.  
After Katherine ordered another slice, the sunny girl entered the kitchen and began to help the pie maker make his pies. Katherine, who was trained in the art of watching people be around other people, noticed the most fascinating of phenomenons. The two of them never touched. It was an intricate ballet with a thousand different steps. The girl would go around the entire kitchen to reach the refrigerators so that she wouldn’t have to squeeze past the pie maker kneading dough at a bench top. When she lost her balance in a puddle, the man deliberately stepped out of the way, rather than attempting a gallant rescue, or at the very least grabbing her arm to prevent her fall. And there was a constant litany of; “stopping”, “going”, “waiting”, “hot pie, coming through!”; to alert one another of their movements. It was a very smooth routine, evidently something the two had perfected with practise. The vigilant customer mused as to why it was so; why could they not touch? As the girl came to refill Katherine’s coffee, she decided to find out.  
“Hello, what’s your name?” she asked the girl.  
“I’m Kitty, Kitty Pimms, and who are you?”  
Katherine could tell that the sunny girl had lied to her about her name. She’d brushed her bangs back behind one ear and her eye contact became sporadic, one of the most common body language signs in the book. She was curious, but reasoned that it wasn’t any of her business what someone’s real name was. Perhaps it was something vulgar and rude, and the girl didn’t like using it.  
“My name is Katherine Elizabeth Steward. I must say, you make a superb pie.”  
“I’ll tell Ned that his work is appreciated,” smiled the girl sunnily.  
“Now, I do have to ask. I have been watching you for a little while and I’ve noticed something rather strange. You two will do anything to avoid physical contact…and I mean anything. It’s fascinating to watch, I’ll tell you that. But I’ve been getting very curious over here, so I thought I’d ask why.”  
Katherine observed the girl going steadily whiter and whiter, though she covered up her unease well. But before she could reply, the other waitress overheard and came to answer for her.  
“Oh, you asking about Ned and Chuck’s touching thing? Yes, it’s very tragic. Chuck here has a rare allergy which means if she touches Ned: poof! She goes under with rashes and hives like a kid with chicken pox!” Her laugh was something of a cackle. “I’m Olive Snook, by the way, how’re you?"  
“I’m very well, Olive.” Katherine smiled. Her smile had a hungry edge, like a circling shark. “Is that true, erm, Chuck?” Katherine used the girl’s real name. She could see nothing inherently embarrassing about it, and so had to wonder why she lied earlier.  
Chuck looked quite uncomfortable, but answered with a bouncy, “Yep, that’s about it.”  
Katherine set her coffee down with an anticipatory smile. “Well, I should tell you that I know you’re lying. Firstly, my mother made a career out of studying allergies; what they are, how they work and, mostly, which ones are true or not. These days it’s all the rage to claim you have an allergy to some exotic product. It was so very chic, but so many people were doing it, it was getting ridiculous. So about two years ago, my mother — who rather enjoys exposing the truth in the ugliest fashion — comprehensively disproved the existence of a wide range of false allergies. Including, and especially, allergies to other people. The drug companies lost a fortune; it was all very dramatic. But I know for a fact that you’re lying, because there’s no such thing as having an allergy to someone. And secondly, you started playing with your ponytail. Touching or fretting with your hair is one of the most obvious signs of dishonesty. Unless, of course, you were flirting with me; in which case, here’s my number.”  
Katherine fished a card out of her large, shiny purse, with the words ‘Katherine Elizabeth Steward, PhD’ and the address of her big office in the city. She slid it across the counter with a smile and a wink, then took a sip of coffee to let the stunned Chuck recuperate from the spiel.  
Olive looked almost as flabbergasted as Chuck, and turned to her with disbelief. “But…why can’t you touch, then?”  
Chuck struggled with the truth; the truth being, one touch from Ned, and she’d be dead as a doornail. Again. She certainly couldn’t trust this beautiful stranger with her sharp eyes and her fancy office with her secret. And she couldn’t tell Olive, because she’d lied to her for the past year. Telling her everything would mean some considerable fallout, of the explosive and dramatic kind. She wanted to tell Olive everything; she trusted her implicitly. But this conversation was not one to be had in the middle of a bustling pie shop when one should be serving customers.  
Katherine observed Chuck’s twitchy body language and roaming eyes, deducing that she was searching for an escape. She could also see the lies percolating on her tongue, and took no interest in more deception. She took pity on the woman, and wrapped up the conversation.  
“Calm down, I’m not the police. I’m simply a curious stranger. If it’s that big of a secret, then it’s really none of my business. I have no right to know.”  
“But I do!” Olive was infuriated. “Tell me everything, Chuck.”  
Chuck took a deep breath. “Olive, telling you everything will take considerable time, patience, and space for you to yell and scream at me, none of which we have currently. I promise you, I will tell you. But not here and not now. Tonight?”  
Olive still have proverbial steam gushing from her ears, but recognised the logic in what Chuck was telling her. She also noticed some of the customers getting rather aggravated at being neglected.  
“Fine. But I want the truth this time, ok?” She flounced off to serve the customers with a huff and a threatening glare back at Chuck.  
Chuck felt wary of the perceptive young psychologist, but recognised that she wasn’t a threatening person; simply a curious one. Katherine recognised Chuck’s recognition, and relaxed. She hadn’t intended to hurt or violate anyone; she’d only wanted to understand. And she understood and respected that Chuck wanted to keep certain facts to herself, so didn’t push.  
As Katherine finished off her succulent slice of pie, Chuck slid her business card back across the counter.  
“Thank you for the offer, it’s very flattering. I’m afraid I’m taken.” Her eye was caught by Ned’s in the kitchen, and he waved with a flour-encased hand. Her glowing smile told Katherine everything she needed to know.  
“You’re dating someone you can’t touch? Goodness, I could have a field day with that in Psych classes.”  
“Huh?” Chuck felt a little lost, wondering how psychology classes came into her love life.  
“Oh, it’s a classic hypothetical to demonstrate different types of affection and how we show that affection to each other. Romantic affection has a lot of physical contact; taking out that factor would create a fascinating scenario.”  
“Yes, it is,” mused Chuck. Despite feeling like a lab rat under the woman’s astute gaze, she agreed with her. Chuck and Ned’s relationship dynamic was unique, and therefore remarkable.  
“So, do you have sex, or…?”  
“No, nothing like that.”  
Katherine sensed that her question had been a touch too invasive; Chuck’s body language was becoming cold and closed off as she brewed more coffee. Katherine backpedalled hastily, not wishing to affront her new friend.  
“My apologies. That was a bit too forward.”  
“Yes, it was.”  
Katherine smiled at the bluntness, and Chuck returned it brightly. She liked the young psychologist, despite her disarming ability to sniff out her secrets.  
“You should come back some time, Katherine Elizabeth Steward.”  
Katherine concurred at once. She liked the Pie Hole; the food was good, the atmosphere was serene, and the people were endlessly fascinating. “I do believe I shall, Chuck.”

Katherine Elizabeth Steward had been regularly attending the Pie Hole for a matter of weeks now. It became her favourite place to stop after work, between her 10 hours in the fancy office and her 4 extra work hours that she spent at her spacious flat. She considered her flat her second office, and often took clients there when there weren’t enough hours in the work day. The Pie Hole became her true home, her respite from the world of Problems and Issues and Clients. She loved gossiping with Olive about anything and everything, including Olive’s very recently ended crush on the pie maker and her current, not-rebound boyfriend Randy Mann. She also loved soaking in Chuck’s optimism, as if she were the sun and Katherine was vitamin D deficient. However, there was one elusive member of the Pie Hole that Katherine had yet to be introduced to.  
One day, as the pie maker was arranging pies on the decorative platter, Katherine decided to take matters into her own hands.  
“Uh…excuse me?”  
Ned turned sharply. Katherine established that his jitteriness was the result of a traumatic childhood and horrendous father issues. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”  
He smiled crookedly, a smile that Katherine objectively noted was absolutely stunning. “I'm Ned, maker of pies.” He proffered his hand.  
“Katherine Elizabeth Steward, consumer of said pies.” She shook his hand, which was huge, warm and coated in flour — typical of a baker. She surreptitiously wiped every speck of flour from her hand with a handkerchief once he let go, careful not to get any near her prized red coat or immaculate black skirt.  
“Ah, the uncomfortably perceptive psychologist.”  
“My reputation precedes me. I hope I didn’t make Chuck too uncomfortable?”  
“No, she just seemed a little shaken that someone had so easily dismantled all her secrets.”  
“Well, I mean no harm. All I possess is passing curiosity, no evil intent here. I just enjoy flexing my deducing muscles in a more casual setting”  
“That's very comforting,” smiled the pie maker. He felt rather charmed by the sophisticated young woman, and felt an odd compulsion, one he very rarely felt. Recklessness.  
“What have you deduced about me?”  
Katherine, recognising that this wasn’t a question the pie maker asked every day, considered her answer carefully. And decided on blunt honesty, as she often did.  
“I’ve observed that Chuck isn’t the only thing you can’t touch. You also can’t touch your dog; when you want to pet him, you use a broom or that hand there;” here she pointed at a wooden hand on a stick, a backscratcher, which had been discreetly placed next to the industrial ovens. It was indeed used for scratching Digby. “You have an alarming supply of rotten fruit, which between exiting your secret storeroom out the back and entering these excellent pies, become inexplicably ripe and succulent. And you seem very sexually frustrated, judging by your perpetual boner and tension of your hands. Far more sexually frustrated than Chuck over there, who seems blissfully content with a boyfriend she can never touch. That’s a time bomb, I’m telling you now. Oh, and you bake pies because your mother used to and it reminds you of her, and possibly your childhood home.” Katherine decided that was enough for now. “Is that enough for now?”  
Ned felt completely shell shocked. She’d stripped him back, layer by layer, like an onion. He'd realised the connection between his chronic pie baking and his long-dead mother, but to have it picked up by a near stranger unnerved Ned. And how had she known about the fruit, and Digby?  
"I'm not sexually frustrated. I’m perfectly content in our relationship.”  
Katherine hid a smile. She was amused that the first thing the pie maker had refuted wasn't his traumatic childhood or his inability to touch certain things — though, she noticed, he could touch Olive and herself — he had immediately honed in on the accusation about Chuck. Fascinating.  
"I'm just stating my observations. But if I was constantly around someone that I couldn't stroke or hold or caress, I'd be getting pretty frustrated too." Little did Ned know, Katherine could empathise with the pie maker.  
The facts were these. Katherine Elizabeth Steward was 14 years, 10 months, 1 week and 9 hours old when she saw Jeffrey Button for the first time, in a crowded school corridor. He was the new boy, and Katherine felt an instantaneous attraction to the shy drummer. She expressed this attraction by murmuring "dibs" under her breath to her best friend. The friend, who was starting a band with the new drummer, immediately told him of Katherine's affections. Katherine denied the allegations vehemently, not wanting to appear too forward. Months passed, until Jeffrey and Katherine began a few minutes of small talk in the corridor, which spilled over online, which became a solid week of constant communication between the lovebirds. This concluded in Jeffrey tentatively asking out the delighted psychologist-to-be. They dated steadily throughout high school and beyond, when Jeffrey began studying music at university and Katherine studied psychology. However, his meteoric success demanded he move to New Orleans, and with tears in both their eyes, the lovers committed to a long distance relationship straddling the South Pacific Ocean. Katherine enjoyed many sexual partners with Jeffrey’s blessing, and likewise for him. She was very upfront with potential partners, informing them that she would indeed be thinking of her far away boyfriend whilst in the throes of intercourse. Some acquiesced, some did not. Many were simply grateful to be with a woman, even if she had not been with them. All in all, Katherine knew what it was to love someone you couldn't touch, and while in some ways it was worse that her and her lover were separated by an ocean; at least she didn't have to shackle the temptation to simply hug him. She had more insight of the pie maker's predicament than he knew, and felt the compulsion to help him however she could.  
"I want to help you, Ned. However I can."  
"Well thank you. There's nothing you can do though." His forlorn gaze only spurred Katherine on.  
"Nonsense. You two must have some workarounds? Like the back scratcher for Digby?"  
"Well...Chuck keeps bees, and we danced in the beekeeper suits once."  
"Yes, good." Katherine slipped into psychologist mode, taking copious notes in her mind as she always did.  
"I've installed a partition in the car so she can ride shotgun. And we have a spooning shield in bed." Ned smiled blissfully at the memory of their last spooning session. "Oh, and we use glad wrap to kiss"  
"Well, how deliciously devious." Katherine felt a condescending smile tugging at her mouth, but stowed it away. That would not be helpful. "How about sexual acts? Masturbating together? Stripteases? Something that would be a turn on, without contact?"  
Ned felt decidedly uncomfortable holding this conversation in the Pie Hole, and hoped no body overheard the psychologist casually discussing masturbation. "Look, could we do this another time?"  
Katherine immediately understood the pie maker's concerns and agreed.  
"Olive, Chuck and I all live above the Pie Hole. Come to Olive's apartment at 7:00 for a sleepover?"  
"Goodness, I haven't had a proper sleepover for years. I'd be delighted."  
Katherine departed from the Pie Hole that day with an apartment number in her hand and a satisfied smile on her lips.

Olive was setting out her exhaustive supply of nail polish when the doorbell rang cheerily. With Chuck hot on her heels, and Ned huddled in her armchair looking apprehensive, she dashed to the door and threw it open.  
"Hi, Katherine!"  
"Hello Olive, hello Chuck."  
"C'mon in! Make yourself at home!"  
Katherine entered the apartment with a sharp eye. She loved being invited to other people's homes; there was so much to see about them. Olive's abode was colourfully, vibrantly, eye poppingly floral. There was a comfortable amount of clutter; clean, but not compulsively tidy; the home of one who is quite comfortable with one's mess. In the floral wallpapered living room, hunched in a floral upholstered armchair, was Ned, looking rather petrified at the thought of an all-girls sleepover.  
"Ned, you look positively panic-stricken. I thought this was your idea?"  
"I came up with the idea of a gathering-including-Katherine, but I hadn't considered a gathering involving inflicting the male with nail polish, telling a copious amount of secrets that I have no desire to divulge, and little to no sleep which will undoubtedly impede my crack-of-dawn wake up call."  
Katherine laughed at Ned's summary. "Oh come on, we're only a bunch of girls."  
"Only a bunch of...have you met Olive and Chuck?? I have a perfect right to be terrified."  
The troublemakers in question giggled fiendishly, then asked Katherine what her favourite colour of nail polish was. As always, she chose a sleek, professional red. Chuck applied a serene blue, and Olive chose a poppingly orange coat to match her Pie Hole uniform. They obligingly threatened Ned with a bottle of hot pink, then begged him to apply their nail polishes with his precise and skilful hands. Olive pulled out a bottle of wine, and eventually the conversation turned to the elephant in the room.  
"So. Ned and Chuck."  
Ned, sensing that Katherine was embarking on a topic of a sensitive nature, began to search in vain for the wine bottle.  
"Have you ever done something sexual? Obviously intercourse is out of the question, but there are other methods."  
Chuck, tranquil from the wine, only giggled. "Well..."  
"No," Ned cut her off sharply.  
Katherine was not fooled. "You were saying, Chuck?"  
After a brief, nonverbal stand off, Ned sighed and looked away while Chuck delightedly elaborated. "There was one time. I walked in on Ned jerking off..."  
Olive was transfixed, trying very hard not to picture Ned gloriously exposed and recumbent, spasming in pleasure. Ned hid his face in his hands.  
"...he was very embarrassed, but after a bit I, well, I joined in." Chuck's cheeks flamed, but she looked very pleased with herself.  
"And that satisfied you?" Katherine's inquiry was sly and deliberate.  
"I...well...yes, yes it did." Chuck felt a little self conscious, and looked shyly at Ned to see his reaction. His cheeks were as crimson as his infamous strawberry pie, but his gaze sparked with the heat of the conversation.  
"And you, Ned?" Katherine asked quietly.  
"Uh," Ned considered his answer carefully. He did not feel satisfied with one mutual masturbation session, but hadn't mentioned it to Chuck because he didn't want to pressure her. Eventually, his selfishness won out.  
"...no, it wasn’t.”  
Katherine didn’t continue the conversation, pinning him with her sharp gave until he elaborated.  
“Chuck, I hate being around you and being unable to touch you. I hate seeing you in my old T shirts and nothing else, and not being able to snuggle with you. I hate watching you get dressed and having to sit on my hands. And I hate jerking off to the thought of your touch, when you're so close to me." He stopped for breath, surprised he'd confessed so much in present company. Katherine and Olive were very still and quiet, trying not to intrude on the lovers' moment.  
Chuck was astonished, and sad too. She'd never guessed that this was how Ned felt. She felt perfectly happy with their arrangement, wistful of course for what they could never have, but content to hug through beekeeper suits and kiss through glad wrap. Her sex drive had always been mild, but evidently this was not the case with Ned.  
"I...I never guessed. I thought you were happy with this."  
Ned felt anguished that their convoluted relationship wasn't enough for his libido. "I am happy, Chuck! I love you, and love is so much more than sex. I just want what I can't have. I'm sorry I ever mentioned it."  
"Oh, no you don't." Katherine recognised a bolting animal when she saw one. "Ned, shoving these feelings aside will just cause a huge mess to clean up in the distant future. You need to address them now. Chuck, don't blame Ned for being a horny teenage boy, it's entirely out of his control and he's done what he can to contain it."  
"I don't blame him, I just wish he'd told me. I'm happy to do what it takes to satisfy your hormones, Ned."  
Olive had been watching the entire exchange with the avid attention of a fan at a tennis match. "Ah, but Chuck, what he truly craves is contact. Touch. As much as you can do, you can never give him that feeling of skin on skin. He needs a fuck buddy, sex for the sake of sex." Olive smiled seductively.  
Chuck and Ned looked scandalised. Ned, because he was being talked about as if he were an object. Chuck, because she had no intention of letting Ned fall into Olive's clutches. She loved her like a sister, but knew all about Olive's entirely-too-recent crush on the pie maker and wanted to keep him far, far away from her.  
Katherine intervened in the nick of time. "I agree, Olive. Ned needs something that Chuck can't give him, yes?"  
After stolen glances, the couple agreed.  
"And Olive can't give it to him either. She's far too attached. I, however, am perfectly available."  
Chuck felt much better about handing Ned off to Katherine. The psychologist's cool demeanour made Chuck feel like she would give Ned exactly what he needed and think nothing of it, as if she was serving him a slice of cake. Ned felt like it was time to speak up.  
"Uh, hello, still here?"  
"Yes, sorry Ned. What do you think?" Katherine was very curious about what the pie maker would say.  
“I…want that. I want touch, sex, everything. I want all of that from you, Chuck, but I can't. And I've tried to live with that, but simple masturbation isn't working for me. And doing it with you made it worse." Their sad eyes met, filled with wistful desires that could never be fulfilled. "So, the next best thing might be doing it with someone else and imagining it's you. I'm happy to try if you are?"  
"Yes. I want you to be happy, and if that means sharing you then so be it."  
"It wouldn't be sharing. I'd think only of you."  
"And I can guarantee that I'll stay detached," chipped in Katherine. Plied by the wine and the warmth of friendship, she told them the story of Jeffrey Button and their painful separation.  
"You look nothing like him," she informed the pie maker. "But you have a similar body, so it won't be too hard to pretend."  
"And we look something alike," added Chuck. "So it would be easy for Ned."  
Ned, Chuck and Katherine looked at one another, double and triple checking that each party was happy with the terms. After confirmatory nods, they all disbanded for teeth brushing and showers.  
Only one person was unhappy with the night's discussions. Olive Snook felt incensed that she had missed out on a chance to be intimate with the pie maker. However, she recognised just how unhealthy such a relationship with him would be, and, after recalling her boyfriend Randy Mann, decided it was for the best.

Ned the pie maker approached Katherine Elizabeth Steward’s flat with trepidation in his heart. He hadn't been 'in the sack' since Annabel the courier, which had been well over three years ago — it ended rather abruptly when he accidentally resurrected her bearskin rug during an amorous encounter. He was a bit worried that he'd forgotten how to do it.  
His fist was poised inches from the door, about to knock, when it was opened prematurely by Katherine.  
“Hello, pie maker,” she greeted him smoothly.  
“Uh, hello,” he said awkwardly. “I brought pie.” He proffered it with an adorably abashed demeanour.  
“Just the thing for dessert,” Katherine smiled, and carried the pie through to her kitchen. Following, Ned was bewildered at how comfortable, well furnished and — most of all — expensive her apartment was.  
“You must be a very good psychologist. Your home is beautiful.”  
Katherine decided not to mention her private feelings that this flat was not her true home; indeed, she felt far more relaxed at the Pie Hole than she ever did in her resplendent apartment.  
“Yes, I am rather good,” Katherine said it with her customary bluntness and a smile. “Now I can tell you’re very nervous, Ned—“  
“Really? Shame, I thought I was hiding it.”  
“Not in the slightest,” she confessed with a chuckle. “But I want you to know that anytime you’re getting too uncomfortable, just say so and we’ll stop. You’re safe here. Also, I won’t judge you in any way, shape or form, whether it’s in a social context or a sexual one. I’m doing this for you — and partly for my libido, but if it isn’t satisfied that’s easily dealt with.”  
Ned, as ever, was uncomfortable with so much honesty. But recognised the importance and validity of what she was saying, and nodded in assent.  
“Good. Now, shall we have dinner?”  
Dinner was a rather reticent affair, filled with strained silences and uncomfortable eye contact. Katherine’s exceptional social skills managed to minimise these moments though, and Ned felt almost at ease when Katherine put down the fork she’d used to demolish his dessert pie — he, of course, could not have a bite of it without the fruit rotting in his mouth.  
“You never eat your own pies,” Katherine observed casually.  
As always when confronted with conversation that was uncomfortably close to one of his many secrets, Ned clammed up verbally.  
“Oh, uh…don’t I?”  
Katherine’s eyes danced at his weak response. “No, you don’t. That’s probably why you’re one of the only thin chefs I know.”  
“That’s…that’s why I don’t eat them. Watching my figure,” he chuckled uncomfortably.  
“I mean, you could easily justify it by saying you need to taste-test the pies. But you never even try a crumb.” Katherine’s gaze pierced him over her wine glass, which she swirled ponderously.  
“Well, it’s a slippery slope. I start with just a crumb, and then I end up with just a crumb left.”  
Katherine considered him skeptically. She knew she was close to something, a secret of the pie maker’s that was possibly connected to his sporadic aversion to touching. She was desperate to find out about that; why on earth couldn’t he touch Chuck? But she sensed he was nearing the end of his comfort tether, when he was already so nervous about their date. It would be cruel to continue questioning.  
So she changed tack entirely. “Ned, I had an idea to help…make this go a little smoother.”  
Apprehension twisted in the pie maker’s comfortably filled gut. “Uh…ok.”  
Katherine stood and took her phone from the bench top, tapping a few times until an upbeat waltz filled the room from discreet speakers.  
“You mentioned that you danced with Chuck in a beekeepers suit. Hopefully you can recall the experience, and match it to this one.” She offered him her hand. “Shall we?”  
He took it, not without a bolt of courage. He clasped her waist with one hand, and held hers in the other. She was almost the same height as Chuck, perhaps an inch taller. Katherine had deliberately dressed in a similar fashion to Chuck, in an old fashioned dress and cardigan, her hair and makeup softer than hers normally was. She had even appropriated some of Chuck’s perfume.  
“Do I smell something?” Ned asked uncertainly as they began to move.  
“I borrowed Chuck’s perfume,” admitted the psychologist with a cheeky grin.  
Suddenly touched by the lengths that Katherine had gone to help him adjust to this charade, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He was immersed in the familiar smell of Chuck; her scent permeated his flat, the Pie Hole, his car, and most of his life. The warm body that he was dancing with became more and more Chuck-like, until he was floating in a surreal state where he was at least partially convinced that he was finally dancing with his love.  
When he was so deeply absorbed in the vision that he felt he could have opened his eyes and found Chuck there, he kept them closed and kissed her. Her lips were as soft as he remembered from their first and only kiss, and he cupped her cheek tenderly. The warmth and softness of skin, after so many months deprived, was unreal. He savoured every touch and pressure, trying to memorise it, knowing it was in short demand. He tried to avoid Katherine’s short hair, afraid of breaking the illusion. They had paused in their dance, caught up in the timeless kiss.  
Eventually, Ned’s hands began to drift. First they touched her back, along her soft cardigan. They found her waist, and pulled her even tighter to him. He revelled in being about to feel the pressure of her under his fingers, her waist so small that his large hands could’ve circled it. Then they moved upwards, tentatively, towards her chest. He was no longer an awkward teenage boy, but imagining that this was Chuck, he seemed transported back to his boyhood. He suddenly, cripplingly, feared rejection.  
Katherine, intuitively sensing that he was loosing his nerve, kissed him a little harder and arched into his hand. She was trying very hard to be Chuck-like; innocent and a little demure, with an inner boldness. But she needed things to keep moving. She took his hand and guided it onto her breast.  
The absolute softness was something that Ned had almost forgotten. Again growing heady with the abundance of touch, he found the courage to forge ahead. Both hands now found her chest, stroking until he could feel her nipples responding. He broke their long kiss, keeping his eyes closed. He fumbled for the small buttons on her dress.  
Katherine took over momentarily, unbuttoning it down to her waist. In an instant, Ned’s hands were on her again, intoxicated by the plethora of bare skin, all for him to touch. After some further exploration, he began pulling the dress a little, a silent request. Katherine obeyed, stepping back and shedding her cardigan and dress. Ned still wouldn’t open his eyes, using his ears instead to track the muffled tumps as each article of clothing hit the floor. He could vividly picture Chuck disrobing with that cheeky little smile of hers.  
Katherine’s fingers suddenly found him again, and began undoing his posh button-down shirt. Chuck had picked out the shirt for him. She shed him of it, leaving his pants alone, and kissed him again.  
She was naked except for underpants. The feeling of her whole naked torso pressed against his was utterly exhilarating, after being deprived of contact for so long. His hands roamed every inch of her, and they kissed with a ferocity and passion that he’d rarely felt. Soon neither was content with the arrangements, and Katherine lead the pie maker to her bedroom. At that point, he sneaked a peek at her, instantly aroused by her near-naked form leading the way. If he pictured long brunette waves instead of the pixie cut, he saw Chuck. Her figure and her soft soft waist, her delicate shapely legs, her small and petite bum. He reached out, and could scarcely believe it when his fingers met flesh. Everything still carried the surrealism of a dream.  
Katherine shut her bedroom door tightly behind them. The pie maker seated him self awkwardly at the end of her bed, and she stood facing him before the door. Then, for a moment, she was completely and totally Katherine, with the flames of desire in her eyes. And startlingly, he was no less aroused by her. The craving he felt for Chuck switched in an instant to a lust for Katherine, with her sly smile and clever words and polished looks. She stalked towards him, and he knew she saw only him. And when they kissed, in that moment he was utterly awake and aware of everything that was happening.  
They kissed for a while on the bed, while Ned almost reluctantly tried to re-submerged himself in the vision of Chuck. When and only when he convinced that this was Chuck he was touching and holding and caressing, he directed her hand to the front of his pants. That was the only encouragement Katherine needed. In minutes, he was drifting in a world of pleasure as both her hand and mouth stroked him. He made sure his hand was always touching her skin somewhere, to ensure she wouldn’t disappear.  
After an unknowable about of time, he felt his arousal come to a head, and as he certainly didn’t want the night to be over, he murmured a warning to his lover. She pulled back, laying beside him to kiss him thoroughly. He returned it, then moved over her. The simple wonder of their naked bodies pressed together still gave him a heady rush.  
He then moved downwards, spreading her legs wide. Beginning at her knee, he slowly began kissing along her inner thigh, attuned to both the delicate warmth of her skin, and her irregular breaths for what caused the most pleasure. He took his time pleasuring her, perhaps too long; she may have gotten bored. But the pie maker wasn’t thinking of such things, for he was utterly immersed in sensation. When his felt his lover get close to the edge, he paused — to her consternation — and lay level with her.  
It was one of those tender, vulnerable moments that all partners feel while pleasuring one another. They looked into one another, and Ned saw only Chuck’s green eyes in Katherine’s blue ones. They exchanged a gentle kiss, savouring the intense connection.  
Then Ned hovered over her and aligned himself between her legs. Her hot, slick, wetness against his head was exhilarating, and with only a pause of anticipation, he slid inside her. He moaned aloud at how wonderful it felt to finally be surrounded by a woman. Ned stayed stationary for a moment, simply revelling in the sensation. Then he began moving, setting a slow and measured pace. Katherine was a wonderful partner, matching any changes in rhythm within moments. Together, they moved faster and faster, building more and more. All too soon, Ned felt himself coming close. He’d been without sex for too long; now that he was finally in its throes, he couldn’t fight it whatsoever.  
He shut his eyes and lost himself completely in the illusion of Chuck, opening himself to the vision of her, flushed and sweating beneath him. And, without warning, he was writhing and lost, lost in his orgasm and in Chuck.  
Several minutes later, they collected themselves enough to lie comfortably in each other’s arms. Katherine was positioned above Ned a little, his head resting on her shoulder. He could not see her face; only her sleek little body, slightly dewy with post-coital perspiration. It took almost no effort to see Chuck in the curve of her breasts, the slight dip of her stomach and the small protruding hip bones upholding the canvas of skin. He lay like that for a while; an hour perhaps. He stroked her skin, tracing it over and over again, caught up all over again in the miracle of touch.  
He thought Katherine might have fallen asleep, but when he had drunk his fill of her skin, he raised his head and saw she was still awake. There was a glazed sheen to her eyes, and he knew she wasn’t seeing him at all. She was seeing the man who truly held her heart, separated from her by an ocean.  
In a moment, she roused herself from her trance and smiled slowly at Ned.  
“How are you feeling?” she asked him gently.  
“Good,” Ned replied openly. “Unbelievably good.”  
“It worked, then? You saw Chuck?”  
“Yes, it was as if I were lying right with her. Thank you so much for helping from your end.”  
“It was an absolute pleasure,” she murmured softly.  
Ned kissed her, and again he was uncomfortably aware that he wasn’t kissing Katherine while picturing Chuck. He was kissing Katherine. He stroked her hair, her short hair, and felt overwhelming gratitude and tenderness for her. It couldn’t compare to the love he felt for Chuck, but it made him uneasy. Fortunately, his mind was too addled by the pleasure of orgasm and absolute contentment to feel truly put off. He pushed aside all those uncomfortable emotions and buried himself in the bliss of contact. He was asleep within seconds.

~~~

Emerson Cod was happily seated in the Pie Hole, combing the local newspaper for a case, when he was interrupted by a psychologist sliding into the booth opposite him. He took in her short, conservatively daring haircut, her flammably red coat and her sophisticated manner, and decided he didn't need this kind of trouble in his life.  
"Keep on walking, sweetheart, this ain't a bus stop."  
She was joined by the pie maker, the girl he called Chuck, and the pining waitress. "This still ain't a damn bus stop."  
"Too bad, Emerson. We want to introduce you to someone." Olive wisely decided to let Katherine do the talking.  
A delicate, red nailed hand was extended to the brusque detective. "Katherine Elizabeth Steward. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cod."  
Emerson Cod ignored the hand. "What's she doing here?"  
"She can help us," Chuck told him sharply. "She's a psychologist."  
"Oh, goodie. What I really need in my life is to make the acquaintance of a snooty, arrogant, psycho babbling magician with cheap mind tricks." He raised with newspaper with a flourish, hoping to end the conversation.  
"Mr. Cod, while I'd love to tell you that your bigoted stereotyping is unfounded, unfortunately there is a grain of salt. Although I must correct you, my mind tricks aren't cheap. Allow me to demonstrate.” Katherine began her spiel. This was her favourite part of being exceptionally perceptive; unveiling all her deductions with devastating flair.  
"You are a detective; private investigator, judging by your expensive clothing. Your business is going very well. Despite your affronting demeanour, you undoubtedly hide a heart the size of Texas; Olive served you pie without even taking an order, indicating intimacy. And you’re an estranged father and you miss your daughter."  
Emerson almost spit out his pie, but upon realising what a waste of good pie it would be (and at a threatening glare from the pie maker), he swallowed.  
"And just how do you figure that?"  
"The front page of that newspaper features the kidnapping story of a young girl; you reacted to it emotionally, that much was clear from your body language, indicating that you are a father. If you were currently a father, you would comb the article three times top to bottom, to fish out the inevitable details and tips on how to protect your own child from such a fate. But you immediately opened the paper once ascertained that the child was a stranger, and began perusing the crime section; obviously the story caused you pain and you didn't wish to linger. Meaning that you have a daughter, but she isn't with you now. And any father would miss their child."  
Katherine revelled in the shocked silence. She didn't like poking at wounds, but if she wanted to earn the respect of the grumpy detective, she'd have to fight for it.  
"My daughter is none of your business. And if you ever mention it again, I'll extract your toenails through your windpipe."  
"They need a new coat of red," Katherine smiled flippantly, satisfied that she had Emerson Cod's attention. She turned to the others. ”So why are you introducing me to a private investigator?"  
“Partly to watch you psychologically dismember him,” admitted Olive.  
"We help Emerson solve his cases and we figured a smart, observant psychologist could be a valuable asset,” Ned added. He couldn’t quite maintain eye contact with the psychologist, for whenever he did, he had an unfortunate flashback to her moans and the feel of her skin on his.  
“I don’t mean any offence, but what do three people who work in a pie shop contribute to crime solving?”  
She saw at once that she’d hit a sore subject, probably one in their myriad of secrets; Ned immediately became absorbed in his fidgeting fingers, Chuck rearranged her bangs and Emerson Cod closed his newspaper with a loud rustle.  
“If you’d believe it, I enjoy the company,” he said drily. “Why is this relevant? We have a case to solve.”  
“And does that ‘we’ include Katherine?” Olive asked slyly.  
Emerson assessed the poised woman distastefully. “I suppose someone with an inbuilt lie detector might be useful on suspects.”  
Katherine considered his acquiescence a modest victory.

Katherine was not invited to go to the morgue with Ned, Chuck and Emerson. She was told to stay in the Pie Hole with Olive and wait for them to call with a lead. She was rather perturbed at being benched so early in the investigation, but Olive consoled her with chatter and pie.  
“Oh, they always do that to me. Run off and leave you on the outside. They’re as clique-y as high schoolers. Emerson often lets me in though, when Ned and Chuck are having a domestic.” She paused in her task of wiping down the countertop. “Speaking of Ned and Chuck, and potentially domestics, how was your date?”  
Katherine paused to sip her coffee, and collect herself. She knew undoubtedly that anything she relayed to Olive would be then relayed to Chuck. She’d already debriefed her on how the night had gone, but knew she had to tread lightly. She didn’t want to sound too enthusiastic.  
“It was…quite entertaining.”  
After a lengthly pause, Olive straightened indignantly. “That’s it? That’s all I get? What does that even mean? This is Ned in the sack we’re talking about, not the movie you saw on the weekend.”  
Katherine smiled. “It was good,” she teased her.  
Olive threw up her hands in defeat and resumed her cleaning.  
“It was wonderful, but because of how content he was. He’d been so starved of touch, Olive. He was lonely, I think. To be able to give him that gift, to make his dreams become something resembling reality…”  
She cut herself off when she saw Olive’s eyes growing misty. At once, she cursed her own blindness. Olive had wanted to do this for the pie maker for so long, longer than Katherine could guess. How tactless and insensitive to go around yelling about it.  
“Olive, I’m so sorry. That was incredibly thoughtless for me. Please forgive me.”  
Olive swallowed and turned to her. “Oh boy, you’re in trouble.”  
Then she smiled. “I have never seen you be thoughtless or insensitive to your surroundings. I guess Ned really made an impression on you, huh? Doesn’t sound like it was just a one-night stand for you.”  
Olive’s uncomfortably perceptive gaze almost made Katherine squirm. Then she remembered that she didn’t squirm. She felt a sudden stab of remorse for all those people she had made uncomfortable with her deductive powers. It was horrible.  
“It was…deeply emotional for him. It would be hard not to be touched by that.”  
Olive regarded her skeptically. “Uh huh.”  
Katherine decided she was, indeed, in trouble.


End file.
